Always There
by Sandpiper01
Summary: Stiles, Isaac, and Scott have been best friends since early elementary school. They've always been there for each other and none of them could imagine life without either of their best friends. A collection slightly AU one-shots in which it's not just Scott and Stiles, but Isaac too.
1. Always There

**I wasn't planning on making a long story out of this, just a few one shots of them at different ages. ****And I know this first one is a bit cliche and unoriginal, but I was looking for a bit of a starter. ********If you have any ideas or prompts I'd love to hear them! **

******This first one takes place during the summer before freshman year. No werewolves yet.**

* * *

"Okay, this is the last round before we get something to eat," Stiles says, once again picking up the Play Station controller.

"I told you to eat something before you came over," Scott replies. "We ate dinner early 'cause my mom has to work the night shift, and the only thing I can make is cereal."

Stiles huffs once, putting his focus on the game instead of his growling stomach. He pauses to look out the window - it's already getting dark and they'll have to ride their bikes somewhere to get anything more substantial than Reese's Puffs. His head whips back towards the TV screen when he hears the game's gunshots, only to see blood on his half of the screen.

Scott drops the controller in his lap with a sigh. "I should have known you wouldn't try." He hops to his feet, his arm extended to help Stiles up as well. "I guess I'm still kind of hungry," he admits as he pulls Stiles to his feet.

As they begin debating what would be faster - junk food from the closer gas station or fast food just below a mile away - the doorbell rang.

"Got it!" Scott and Stiles hear Melissa call from downstairs. "I'm on my way out anyway."

Scott and Stiles share a glance, curious one moment and knowing the next - only Isaac would come this late without any notice.

"But I thought-"

"Yeah, he's still grounded," Stiles finishes for Scott.

"Maybe it's not him?" Scott guesses.

Stiles shrugs. Burning curiosity moves Scott's feet first, and the two boys fumble downstairs, tripping over one another the whole way down.

Melissa stops and turns at the noise the two make. "Expecting someone?" she asked.

"No," they said simultaneously.

She gave them a silent "You two will never be normal" look and turned to open the door.

"Isaac, wh-" she says with a smile, but it soon fades and she quickly sets her bag and car keys on the floor. "Isaac what happened?"

Scott and Stiles are at her side in an instant, peering over her shoulder to greet Isaac. With his shoulders brought up towards his neck ever so slightly, Isaac shuffles once and moves his hands to his hoodie pocket. In the yellow porch light, Scott can easily make out the red and purple mark on Isaac's cheek.

"It's - Some kids tried to get my backpack," he says, making no eye contact.

Melissa lightly puts her hand under his chin and turns his cheek towards the light, the nurse side of her taking over instantaneously. "Is there anything else? I can take you to the hospital, I was on my way to work anyway. Or we can just patch you up here. Scott, could you go get the first aid in my bathroom? We'll give you and ice pack and-"

"It's fine," Isaac says with a small smile as he gently pulls away from Melissa's hand. He appreciates it, he really does. More than anything. "And I don't want to make you late for work."

"If someone hurt you, Isaac, it's a good reason for me to be late. Everyone there would understand," Melissa replied.

"Hey," Scott says to get Isaac's attention. When Isaac looks up, Scott hands him a bag of frozen peas. "The ice pack wasn't there, so this was the next best thing.

"Thanks," Isaac replies as he set the cold bag against his throbbing cheek.

"You know I can't just leave you to ride your bike home. I'm happy to take you back to your house, it's not-"

"No," Isaac declines a bit too quickly, earning him a raised eyebrow from Melissa. "It's just - I need my bike to get to work early tomorrow morning and it won't fit in your car. Besides, no one is home right now."

Melissa takes a deep breath in and turns towards Scott and Stiles, debating whether it would be a good idea to leave them alone for most of the night. The two boys give her their sweetest smiles, knowing what is going through her mind. They all have the perfect dynamic by now. Melissa and Sheriff Stilinski knew how to manipulate their sons to a certain extent, just like Scott and Stiles knew how to do the same. It created a balance. Or just a messy conflict of stubborn minds.

"Stay here until your father gets off of work," Melissa turns to Isaac. She knows the situation would have come to this despite any other answer. "Then your bike will fit in his truck. But you're _not_ riding your bike home. Not tonight, at least."

Isaac gives a small smile. "I really appreciate it, Miss McCall."

"Our door's always open," Scott says to Isaac as he picks up his mother's things for her - a silent thank you for letting Isaac stay.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," Melissa tells Scott. She quickly kisses his cheek and adds, "No partying," to all three boys.

"See you tomorrow," Scott says with a smile.

"Thanks again," Isaac offers just before Scott closes the front door.

They turn towards Isaac, able to see right through his lie.

"That looks worse than last time," Scott tells Isaac as he folds his arms across his chest.

"It's nowhere near the same," Isaac counters.

"Yeah, exactly," Stiles says. "It's _a lot_ worse. Last time you could barely tell."

Reluctantly, Isaac brings the relief of the frozen peas away from his cheek and turns to look at his reflection in the nearest picture frame. He sighs when he realizes his friends are right. They usually are, usually have been, most likely always will be.

And they're only ever looking out for him.

"So do you still have Reese's Puffs?" he asks in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

"Oh no." Stiles holds his hands up. "This has been progressively getting worse. If my dad ever saw you..."

"He won't. He can't," Isaac says.

"It might make things easier," Scott offered gently.

"And then what would happen?" Isaac asks, his tone suddenly demanding. "I'd get moved halfway across California or even the country. I already know every corner of Beacon Hills. I already have lacrosse starting next year. I _can't_ leave."

"They don't always move kids that far away," Stiles attempts.

"It's a small town. There's nowhere for me to stay, so I _know_ they would send me to some big city where there are more options."

"Have you at least considered it?" Scott asks.

"Yeah. Just now. And I'm done considering it."

Isaac abruptly pulls his backpack onto both shoulders and walking to the living room to plop onto the couch. He lets his cheek rest against the cold peas, letting his eyes close. He can't believe his two best friends just suggested he take the risk of being forced away from Beacon Hills. They've known each other since pre-school! He's used to having them around, used to going to them for help.

Just like he is now.

He opens his eyes again, but he drops the peas and scrambles to fix a problem he knows is only his fault. Right under his feet are a few blood stains on the cream-colored carpet. His breath catches in his throat. Heartbeat doubles in speed. Desperately, he pushes the hem of his pant leg against the source of the blood: four scratches on the front of his ankle

"Shit," he says repeatedly as he rushes to put his backpack under his feet, an attempt to save the carpet.

"Dude, it's okay!" Scott exclaims, grabbing Isaac's shoulder.

Isaac's gaze whipped toward him, making him think he had startled Isaac.

"My mom won't be mad." Scott sat next to Isaac on the couch.

Isaac seemed to visibly relax.

"Seriously," Stiles said from the kitchen. "I've tracked so much mud onto that carpet and she still lets me stay over."

"But mud comes out so much more easily than blood."

Isaac grimaced as he pulled his jeans away from his ankle, half expecting blood to pour from the scratches and stain the carpet for good. But he realized it really wasn't as bad as he thought - the stream of blood had turned into a trickle, his backpack catching the remaining few drops.

"It's just a few drops," Scott reassures Isaac. "It'll come out."

"I guess I scratched it when I got on my bike too quickly," Isaac assumes.

Stiles comes back to the living room, a bowl in one hand and a box of bandages in the other. He peers over Isaac's backpack to get a look at the damage Isaac's ankle had caused.

"Pfft," he smirks as he sets a bowl of Reese's Puffs on the coffee table along with the bandages. "That's nothing. When I say mud, I mean _piles _of it."

Isaac smirks at the Reese's Puffs brought especially for him. It's a bit of an inside joke between them. His dad has always hated the idea of eating candy for breakfast, so they never kept any in the house. Lucky for Isaac, it was Scott's favorite cereal too, and it was always kept well in stock at the McCall house.

Scott leaves to find the carpet cleaner, and Isaac begins cleaning his ankle as he speaks. "It's just - I like knowing I always have somewhere to go. I don't know what I would do if your mom didn't let me back, Scott."

"Hey," Stiles opened his arms wide, "There's always my house."

Isaac can hear Scott's laugh from the kitchen and can't help but join in.

"What?" Stiles asks, honestly a bit hurt.

"You only have vegetables and fat-free stuff at your place," Scott's voice comes from around the corner.

Stiles sighs dramatically and falls onto the couch. "My dad's trying so _desperately _to get us to eat healthier. What's wrong with curly fries? We're growing teenagers, we need junk food."

Scott has two more bowls of Reese's Puffs in his hands, a towel and a can of carpet cleaner perched on his elbows as he comes back into the living room. He hands one to Stiles as Isaac takes his from the table.

"You know, I can settle with this," Stiles says with a mouth full of cereal, referring back to his and Scott's earlier conversation about food.

"Who _settles_ for Reese's Puffs?" Isaac says in between bites. "You should be begging for them whenever you get the chance."

Stiles and Scott chuckle, happy their friend bounces back to himself so quickly. They finish their substantial meals quickly, forcing Scott to rush back to the kitchen and simply grab the entire box.

They pass the box around, each of them grabbing handfuls at a time. It starts with Stiles being a showoff by throwing a bite in the air and - attempting - to catch it in his mouth. But he only falls and trips over himself to give up and watch Scott and Isaac catch each of theirs.

With each laugh and playful shove, Isaac forgets about the blood on the carpet and the bruise on his cheek.


	2. Guilty

**Stiles and Scott try to talk Isaac out of wanting the bite when Derek offers it to him. **

**Sophomore year/Season 2**

* * *

"You freaking _jumped_ right over Danny!" Stiles exclaimed, pointing his attack towards Scott. "You've gotta tone down the wolf powers - you should be used to them."

"I made the goal," Scott smirked.

"In _practice_. Does it matter that much?"

Scott shrugged as he threw his bags into the back of Stiles's jeep. So Stiles was right, but- "I guess I don't realize I'm using them. I just see an easier way to get around someone and go with it."

Stiles held back any sassy remark and turned his attention to Isaac, who was walking slowly towards the jeep.

"Yo, Isaac. Can you hurry it up here?" Stiles says.

Isaac lifts his head and walks at a brisk pace. Had he really been walking that slow? Upon putting his stuff with Stiles and Scott's, he realizes his thoughts had been far deeper than he remembered. He was completely zoned out, blindly staring at the pavement with each step before Stiles brought him out of it.

"Are you alright?" Scott asks.

"Yeah," Isaac says as he slides into the passenger seat. "I just had something on my mind."

"Anything important?" Stiles probes.

"No, not really."

"Isaac, you know you can't lie to us," Scott says. "We've always been able to tell and I can hear your heartbeat go up."

Isaac turned and gave a short-lived glare to Scott, quickly followed by an exasperated eye roll.

"It's things like that," Isaac says with a bit more vigor than he intended.

Scott and Stiles exchange a glance at a stop light.

Isaac inhales deeply once. "Ever since you were bitten, you've gotten better at lacrosse, popular, found a girlfriend. And Stiles and I are still where we were the beginning of freshman year - the same place you were."

"Isaac, where are you going with this?" The worry in Scott's voice is evident.

"Derek offered me the bite."

Brakes squeal. Bags ram into the back row of seats. Three boys go flying, constrained only by their seat belts.

"He _what?"_ Stiles exclaims.

"What the hell, Stiles?" Isaac says simultaneously.

"No, what the hell were you thinking, Isaac?" Stiles asks before Isaac could say anything else.

"I don't know!" he yells in return. "Aside from the full moon once a month, being a werewolf doesn't seem too bad!"

The other two boys fail to keep their mouths closed, and instead stare at Isaac incredulously. Shaking his head, Stiles turns off the car and walks out, running a hand over his hair.

He waits until he hears Scott and Isaac leave the Jeep and head toward him in the grass along the side of the road. "Were you not there when we c_hained Scott in his bedroom?_ How we worried constantly about who he might have killed?"

"Maybe the second time around is easier," Isaac offers quietly.

Stiles' mouth falls open again, looking from Scott to Isaac, who is now looking down at his shoes sheepishly with his hands sunken deep into his hoodie pocket.

"Isaac, _please_ don't listen to Derek," Scott pleads. "You've seen it first hand - you know how it really is. It's not worth it."

"I know that. It's just," Isaac hesitates. "Derek was really convincing. And watching you score goals so easily and how your asthma just disappeared overnight." He paused as he opened the door to return to the passenger seat. "Sometimes it seems like the good outweighs the bad."

Stiles climbed into the Jeep as Scott slid into the back seat. "They kind of cancel each other out."

"And you would be part of Derek's pack," Stiles says, returning to the road. "That's the last thing you want. He's only looking for power."

"Yeah," Isaac sighs. "He can be a douche bag sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Stiles jokes.

Isaac joins in with the laughing, hoping he convinced them to believe he wouldn't go looking for Derek. A little part of him wishes he could convince himself, too. Sure, Scott had to deal with a lot and still, but he seems fine. If anything, a little better off.

They drop Isaac off at his house first - it's the first one they pass on the way home every day. One glance at the driveway proved his dad was already home. With a sigh, Isaac unlocks the front door and slides to his room unnoticed. Or ignored. He doesn't bother to determine which one.

Scott and Stiles were his best friends, but who were they to tell him what he can do?

He made his decision.

He would go to the cemetery for a while, and when the owner finally left he would sneak out early. He packs a few extra things than what he usually brings with him to work. A flashlight would probably help. Bandages? How long would it take him to heal from that initial bite?

With everything stuffed into one small backpack, Isaac makes his way to the graveyard and eventually the abandoned train warehouse where Derek will be waiting. And as he passes Schott's house, he feels as if he's being stared down by his best friend, making him feel more and more guilty with every breath.


	3. Origins

**Thanks for all the reviews and follows/favorites! I love and appreciate them so much. I'm always up for continuing a one shot and turn it into a multi-part short story, you only need to ask. **

**This next one takes place when they're thirteen-ish and just starting to show an interest in lacrosse. **

* * *

After one too many failed tries, Stiles dropped the lacrosse stick when the ball was still in the air and caught it in his hands.

"Ow, crap!"

Stiles jumped once and shook his hand, creating a comical scene for his two friends.

"That's why you catch it in the net, not your hands," came Isaac's sarcastic but playful retort from across the backyard.

Isaac had finally given into his curiosity and asked his brother Camden if he could take some of his gear into the backyard and toss the ball around. He had said yes - a bit quicker than Isaac had expected. Maybe because he was happy his little brother was following in his footsteps.

"I'm not used to this yet. At least you've tried it out a few times with Camden," Stiles defended himself.

Setting the ball into the lacrosse net, Stiles took a few steps back and looked to Scott, who gave him a small nod in return.

_Okay, just gotta... _Stiles thought as he adjusted his grip, thinking back to the lacrosse videos they had watched online earlier. He replicated the player's moves perfectly, and he felt the ball roll from the net.

At least he was right about one thing.

The ball left the net, but it flew into the wooden fence, leaving a decent sized dent in the wood.

So maybe he hadn't copied the moves of the pro so exactly.

Stiles grimaced and ran a hand over the back of his head. "So maybe this isn't as easy as I thought it would be."

"You think?" Scott joked as he tried to roll the ball into the net without using his hands.

Needless to say, his attempt failed and he picked it up with a sigh and placed it into the net. He drew it back behind his head and released it in Isaac's general direction. And it was very general.

Isaac was forced to sprint to his left in a desperate attempt to even get near where Scott had sent the ball. Arm extended at full length, a little hop at the end, and he still missed the catch.

Instead the ball knocked over their sodas and bowl of Cheetos, which littered the ground over the river of soda.

Isaac raised his arms halfway and gave Scott a look that said, "What the hell, man?"

"You were almost there!" Scott replied to Isaac's unsaid questioning. "It wasn't that bad."

He and Stiles crossed paths on the way to the back porch to help with the mess.

Stiles put his hand on Scott's shoulder. "It was that bad."

The three of them leaned down and started moving the snacks into the bowl.

"Can't Camden give us some tips?" Stiles asked. "You said he was a second choice for team captain last year."

Isaac dumped a handful of Cheetos into the bowl. "He said he's been stressed out getting ready for the army. There's a lot of paperwork and evaluations he has to do before they even consider him."

"Oh," the other boys say together.

"It's only our first time trying this out, anyway," Isaac says, his mood suddenly damped by the reminder that his older brother would be halfway across the world soon.

They rinsed the orange crumbs from their fingers in the hose, and then used it to wash away the soda river before it had time to stain the concrete.

They attempted to toss the ball around, giving up at one point and bringing the laptop out and watching YouTube 'how-to's. The sun continued to set behind the trees, and before they knew it the back porch light automatically came on due to low light.

Scott dodged a ball sent straight at his face by Isaac just as the back door creaked open.

Camden stepped out and called, "It's getting dark, Isaac. And you three have school tomorrow."

Stiles picked up the ball that had rolled to his feet after nearly hitting Scott and the three made their way towards Camden. They jumbled the gear in their arms as they walked inside, doing their best to wipe the dirt from their shoes.

Camden held the door open for Scott and Stiles, and when Isaac made his way past him, he ruffled his little brother's hair.

He would never admit it, but he loved watching Isaac slowly grow an interest in his sport. Camden was in the middle of his senior year - one more season of lacrosse. One more season before he would head away from his friends, from Isaac. He only had so much more time to spend with his little brother.

"Hey, Isaac," Camden said, suddenly coming to a change of heart.

The three boys looked up from where they were gathering the stuff together.

"This Saturday. I'll teach you some of the basics."

* * *

**I know Camden was on the swim team, but I feel like he could have been the reason Isaac began to show an interest in lacrosse. Review, please? I love them and they inspire me to write more!**


	4. Revived

**So thanks to my lovely (yet cruel) reviewer, Orionastro, this next one is going to be pretty sad.**

**Ye have been warned.**

**Current time/Season 3**

* * *

Scott lay with his feet against the wall and his back on the bed as he bounced a tennis ball. He glanced to his phone again; Stiles still hadn't texted back. He went through the last two texts he sent to him.

One three hours ago around noon, another sent just thirty minutes ago.

**Have you talked to Stiles today?**Scott sent to Isaac.

He threw the phone on the pillow and resumed his game of lonely catch. Stiles always had his phone with him. Especially since all the werewolf business started. His mind wandered to why Stiles wouldn't be responding.

He quickly found out that wasn't the best idea.

Luckily, his phone beeped from his pillow.

It was Isaac. **No. I was hoping u had heard from him**

Scott sighed. So Stiles wasn't just mad at him; Stiles would have ranted to Isaac if he was.

Scott pulled his shoes and jacket on, preparing to go to Stiles' house to make sure everything was okay. He pulled out his phone as he walked downstairs.

**I'll figure it out** he sent Isaac.

"Where are you going?"

Scott stopped just as he came to the front door and turned at the sound of his mother's voice.

"Uh," he started, but hesitated. He was worrying too much. Stiles can take care of himself. He probably just fell asleep. "I'm heading over to Stiles'. We haven't heard from him all day."

Melissa folded her arms and walked toward Scott, who was confused by the way her mood suddenly turned sympathetic. "Do you remember what today is?"

"Thurs…day?" Scott answered slowly, her question confusing him even more.

Then it hit him. The way her face fell when he had told her about Stiles.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Melissa took a deep breath. "I was talking to the Sheriff a few minutes ago. He said Stiles left for the cemetery a while ago."

"Well do you think he's still there?"

She shrugged. "He might be."

He resituated his backpack on his shoulders. "Then I'm going to find him."

Melissa gave him a small, knowing smile as he left to get on his motorcycle. His hands began to feel numb as he cut through the cold fall air. He thought of Stiles kneeling at his mother's grave, shivering either from the cold or the grief.

He hated this day almost as much as Stiles did.

When he came to a stop at a red light, he sent a text to update Isaac.

**Stiles is at the cemetery. I can't believe we forgot what day it was.**

What if Stiles doesn't want him there? He wondered once he reached the cemetery parking lot. He's never been very open about his mother except for sharing old stories. Stiles has rarely opened up about how his mother's death affected him, and that was only shortly after she died. Scott and Isaac have heard little to nothing about that in the past couple years.

Just as Scott catches sight of Stiles' dark jacket and jeans, his phone goes off.

**Derek's dropping me off** the text read. Simple and to the point, no need to explain any further.

When Scott looked up, he noticed Stiles staring at him, his features imperceptible. He must have heard the phone ring.

Scott wasn't sure what to say, so he slowly walked up to Stiles where he had set up a little camp by a tree. An empty water bottle and a half-eaten sandwich laid at his side as well as a small, spiral-bound book. He sat on an extra jacket with his knees pulled toward his chest.

Even with the audible leaf crunching under Scott's feet, Stiles acted like there was no one around; he continued to look straight ahead of him. Scott placed a gentle hand on Stiles' shoulder (he still wasn't sure if Stiles truly knew he was there. He didn't want to startle him), and Stiles slowly met his eyes.

Scott offered a small smile, a little relieved that Stiles' eyes were dry, and removed his hand to sit next to Stiles on the ground.

"What my PB&J?" he asked Scott, holding up the half-eaten sandwich.

Scott gave a huff of a laugh. "Nah, dude. I think I'm good. I had a perfectly unhealthy lunch already."

"Reese's Puffs?"

Scott allowed himself a true laugh. "Yeah. I don't even like them that much."

"They're Isaac's thing."

Scott took a seat next to Stiles and leaned against the wide oak tree. Only a few feet in front of them lay Claudia Stilinski's grave, a bouquet of bright lilies just to the side of it. Scott thought back to the small room that still remains untouched to this day in Stiles' house. Canvases lay scattered across the room, a particular, beautiful – but unfinished – one sat featured by the window.

He has only ever been in there once.

But he still remembered that last, unfinished lily watercolor. His mind drifted and he wondered just how many times Stiles had sat in that room and stared at that unfinished painting.

Scott's sensitive hearing picked up the sound of Derek's car before Derek had the chance to pull into the parking lot. He stayed next to Stiles, though, knowing that Isaac would find them there. He hadn't even noticed that Stiles had slowly been leaning closer as each moment passed until he felt the weight on his shoulder. He glanced to Stiles.

His eyes had turned glossy again, and he rested his shoulder against Scott's in a seemingly subconscious way.

"Hey."

Scott turned to Isaac, but Stiles kept his eyes fixed on the tombstone. He offered Isaac a small smile.

Isaac gathered the small pile of wrappers and set it on Stiles' backpack so he would have a place to sit. Stiles kept his eyes fixed ahead of him to the point where Isaac thought he hadn't even noticed his presence. Worried, he patted his friend's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"It's been ten years," Stiles says quietly, his voice a raspy whisper. "I was only eight." He sniffles once and pushes himself off Scott's shoulder and returns his back to the oak.

A thought comes to him that finally sets him over. Suddenly his two best friends, his anchors, are gone, and all he sees is that damn concrete stone with his mother's name on it. He doesn't know why this thought is so devastating . Maybe because it took so long for him to realize it.

"I've spent over half my life without her," he says, completely destroyed by the thought.

And that's when he stops trying to hold back any tears. Saying it out loud suddenly made it so concrete, so true, so undeniably real. But as soon as that first tear falls, Isaac has his arms around Stiles, pulling him into a hug. He knows what it's like to lose someone.

"It'll get better," Isaac says. "It doesn't make it okay and it sure as hell isn't fair, but it'll get better."

So the three of them sat there waiting for Stiles to come back to himself. They offered the most helpful words they could along the way, eventually building a dam to stop the stream of tears. Stiles came to smile and then finally give a little spurt of laughter at something Scott said.

Which proved to Scott and Isaac that they had done their job of bringing back the clumsy yet hilarious Stiles they knew the best.


End file.
